


Sizing Up the Boss

by MR_Leach



Category: Tales of - Fandom, Tales of Series, Tales of Xillia, Tales of Xillia 2
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MR_Leach/pseuds/MR_Leach
Summary: “Don’t get too excited if you make him smile. Making him smile is easy. You want him to take you seriously. You want him to boss you around.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well I did it. I wrote smut of myself with Bisley;; I hope those of you that decide to read enjoy?

“Don’t get too excited if you make him smile. Making him smile is easy. You want him to take you seriously. You want him to boss you around.”

The interviewer made it clear that the job, done right, would be thankless at best. “Your motivation will be your generous pay. Your positive reinforcement will be that you keep the job.”

I’m not even sure how I got the first interview, to be honest, let alone the second. I had applied for a job sewing uniforms for Spirius staff and somehow my GHS number got mixed up with an interviewee for the CEO’s personal stylist. I didn’t even know the man’s name before walking into the interview, but when asked if I could give style advice to Bisley Bakur, my answer was, of course, that I could give advice to anyone. I didn’t question it.

I went home that day, none the wiser, until I mentioned the name to some friends. Then I got to learn all about who he was and just how powerful a man this Bakur really was. I was obviously way in over my head, and I was secretly grateful that I had practically no chance of getting the job what with the circumstances and my weak portfolio…but then I got a call back.

A woman named Vera briefed me on what I should expect from Mr. Bakur; what his personality was like, what his likes and dislikes were. “He has an eye for beauty; he likes to surround himself with bright colours, flowers, that sort of thing.” She said.

“I like flowers!” I blurted out like a child, a gaffe that the others in the room kindly ignored.

Vera went on to talk about Mr. Bakur’s career in Spirius, how he used to be a top notch agent, became DODA and later on the VP. She somewhat awkwardly skimmed over how he became Spirius’ CEO, a position also referred to within the company as “Victor”.

Then came the job description. Based on the events scheduled throughout Mr. Bakur’s year, I was to design, source, and tailor his suits for each one. I would need to prepare concepts for him to choose from, then perform fittings with him until the final product is made, the final product being the image Bisley Bakur then presents to the general public.

Technically speaking, I could do all of those things. I was pretty good at designing menswear, and even better at turning my drawings into fully formed garments. However, the pressure of doing those things within a set time frame for someone with such a grand reputation to uphold was starting to dawn on me. By the time they started walking me to the CEO’s office, my stomach was in knots. Could I really do this, or was I destined to embarrass myself?

I didn’t really have much time to worry about it, however, as it didn’t take long before I was in the man’s office. 

“Mr. President, your new stylist is here to meet you.” Vera didn’t waste a moment before giving me away. She herded me in front of the CEO’s desk, then stood back as I helplessly fidgeted with my vest and only suit jacket, grooming my orange dyed undercut in a last ditch attempt to look presentable.

When he looked up at me, I only became more terrified. Bisley Karsci Bakur was a hulking beast of a man, barely contained by the suit he wore. He was big not only in name but in actual size, and when he stood from his chair to reach over and shake my hand, he all but towered over me, a feeling I was never used to. As his hand clasped over mine, my fingers had to stretch to reach around his palm. All the while, my heart was beating fast. He looked like the kind of boss that would be your worst nightmare, the kind that left you crying after chewing you out for making his coffee slightly too weak.

And then he smiled at me. “Well hello there! What would your name be?”

I blinked a second, a little awe struck. “I-I’m Mary. Mary Leach…my friends call me Leach.”

He chuckled at that. “Leach, eh? I like it. Pleasure to meet you!” His smile stayed on in his eyes when he sat back down. “So you’re the new stylist? I take it you’ll have plenty of fresh ideas to show me.”

I nodded. “I hope you’ll like them.” My voice came out weaker each time I spoke.

“I’m sure I will.” He kept on smiling, until he turned his attention to Vera. “I’ll have to see some designs soon if we’re to get back on schedule with everything, isn’t that right?”

Vera nodded.

“How soon can she have ten designs for me?”

“They said they can have twenty sketched out within a week.” 

“Schedule them in for Friday, then.”

“Understood.” Vera made a mark on her clipboard. “Mary, come with me.”

“Uh? Oh, okay…” I looked between her and Mr. Bakur, a little confused. Were we already done? The CEO no longer paid any attention to me, going back to his work, while Vera started to lead me back outside. 

It was once we were outside the CEO’s office that I remembered what the interviewer told me. My heart sank a little. Mr. Bakur wasn’t just being friendly, he was talking down to me. He didn’t think I could do the job, and he was showing me that by smiling and calling me by my nickname. He took one look at me and thought I was a joke, I was sure of it.

Vera set up my appointment with him and gave me the specs on the event I was to dress him for. I wasn’t feeling up to the task but I said I would have a mood board done by the next day and could have ten sketches done by Friday no problem. At least this way if I made a total ass out of myself, I would still get a week’s pay out of it, right?

I went home feeling defeated. What made me think I could do this? This was the perfect opportunity…if only I’d gotten it ten years down the road instead of right now. Right now, when my life was a mess and I could barely function from day to day. I needed to be slowly introduced into normal adult life, not plunged into it head first without a life jacket.

Why did it have to be the CEO of Spirius? I could maybe handle the pressure of styling a department store manager, or a local politician….but the CEO of Spirius?

Of course, deep down he was just another man. Sure he had power, and lots of it, but what did that affect me? Even if I totally bombed the job, the worst he could do is laugh in my face and take the job away, and I’d be no worse off than when I started. Heck, the fact that I’d gotten this far was an achievement in and of itself. I could brag about working for him for a week and people wouldn’t judge me…they’d just assume Bisley Bakur was too stuck up with far too high standards to let me keep my job. In fact, that just might be it. Why, what gave him the right to judge my abilities right off the bat with just one look? True, dressing a man his size would be a challenge, but it’s not one that I couldn’t easily face. I could dress Bisley Bakur.

I thought about what Vera had said about Mr. Bakur’s tastes, remembering what he wore that day. It hardly reflected his love of colour and beauty, that’s for sure. Dull and grey; not to mention ill fitting. I was starting to realize why there had been a job opening in the first place. 

I used the theme of the event to create a mood board within a couple of hours, the colour palette coming to me easily. I sat down and sketched the silhouette of Mr. Bakur’s body type, or at least what I could tell about it from my brief meeting with him. For a while I stared at it, drinking it in, familiarizing myself with it. This was a man with a powerful stature not just physically, but in the business world as well. I would have to convey that in a way that would be evident to anyone who saw him. He would have to stand out as the most important person in the room just by what he wore, and I would be the one to make that happen.

 

Friday came, and I was ready. I had more than twenty sketches to show Mr. Bakur, many of them I was quite proud of. I could only hope they resonated with him.

This time I was alone, let into Mr. Bakur’s office by Vera, but not accompanied inside. As I entered, Mr. Bakur acknowledged me right away, standing up from his chair to greet me.

“Ah, Leach! Lovely to see you again. I’m excited to see what you have to show me.” His smile annoyed me. It felt fake, like really all he wanted was to get this over with.

“I’m excited to show you!” I decided to play along, at least. I approached his desk and took my sketchbook out of my bag, flipping it open to the first page of sketches and placing it in front of him. He sat back down, his eyes going from me to the book fairly quickly. It gave me a sense of relief. I always felt more comfortable when people looked at my work instead of me.

He flipped through the pages slowly, something that I was never sure if it was good or bad. My teacher always flipped through my work quickly, which always used to make me terribly anxious, but he’d always assure me that I did good work. At one point Mr. Bakur stopped and silently put his finger to the page, something I knew was a good sign. He stayed quiet the whole time he looked through the sketches, then looked up at me with a serious expression.

“There are too many to choose from.”

For a moment I was speechless. Too many? Isn’t more better? But then within moments I understood. I hadn’t narrowed them down enough. I needed to be more selective with what I showed him.

“Here.” I held out my hand for him to hand the sketchbook back to me, while searching my bag for my pencil with the other. When he handed me the book, I quickly started to go through the pages, thinking hard about which ones were worthy of the CEO and which ones weren’t. With my pencil, I dashed across any sketch I felt wasn’t strong enough, and by the end I had crossed off at least half, if not more. Afterwards I handed the sketchbook back, and he immediately started to go through them again.

He flipped back and forth between a few pages, a crease deepening between his eyebrows as he looked to be concentrating. Finally, Mr. Bakur placed his finger on one design, and began to speak.

“I like this concept here, but…” He flipped to the next page. “This colour and the style here seem better.”

I looked at the two examples he showed me, thinking about what he said. I thought about a solution, but for some reason I couldn’t quite put it into words. Instead, I held out my hand again.

“Will you give me a few minutes to draw up something?”

His eyebrows raised. “Sure.” He handed me the book, then weaved his fingers together up by his chin.

I looked around for a place to sit, the first place I noticed being on one of the couches in a lounge area to the side of Mr. Bakur’s desk. It felt rude to leave his desk, but I bowed my head and went to sit on the couch anyways, determined to sketch out what I had in mind. Surprisingly, Mr. Bakur stood up and sat across from me. He laid an arm on the back of the couch as I started to sketch, watching me. It felt more than awkward being watched, but I dared not complain. I simply tried to pretend he wasn’t there while I worked.

Once the sketch was done, I put a streak of the colour Mr. Bakur had mentioned through the piece to give the general idea. I then brought my head up and handed Bakur the book, looking on apprehensively.

As soon as he saw what I had made, his lip curled upwards. However, this wasn’t like the fake smiles he had been spoon feeding me before. This was more of a smirk, like he had to admit to himself that he’d underestimated me. But he wasn’t done with me just yet.

“Where will you get fabric this colour? I doubt you can find anything like this downtown.” His expression was strangely spiteful, like he wanted me to fail. But I wouldn’t give up.

“Downtown Trigleph isn’t the only place to buy fabric. Besides, if I can’t find it, I can always dye it myself.”

“Ha!” His laugh was genuine, if a little condescending. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize stylists could make their own fabric.”

I smiled then. “Whatever it takes to make my vision a reality, Mr. Bakur.”

“Please,” He handed back my sketchbook. “call me Bisley.”

“Bisley,” It felt a little odd calling him by his first name. “I take it you like the design?”

“I do.” He smiled, once again proving that he could do so without it being painfully fake. When he did so, he looked me straight in the eyes, something he hadn’t done since I’d first met him, at least not that I’d noticed.

“I’m glad.” I tucked my sketchbook back into my bag and stood up. “In that case, shall we schedule a fitting for next week? Oh, except…” I look at Bisley’s ill fitting suit, at a bit of a loss.

“Except…?” He stood up with me.

“Well…the measurements that were passed down by the person who was your stylist before are a little…inadequate.”

“Inadequate? How so?”

“Well,” I scratch the back of my head, thinking of how to explain. “The basic measurements are there, but I need mine to be more detailed. From the looks of it, the last guy adjusted a regular men’s pattern to your size…which is okay and all, but I’d rather make a pattern from scratch; one that’ll fit you more accurately.”

Bisley took a moment to stroke his beard, taking in what I had said. “…Alright. Do you want to take my measurements now?”

“Well…no.”

“No?”

“You’re not wearing the right clothes for it. Unless you were to strip down, they might come out inaccurate. Better to be wearing something form fitting, like work out clothes.”

“I see…you seem to do things a lot differently.”

“R…really?” That made me feel self conscious. I wasn’t doing things incorrectly, was I? This was just what made the most sense to me.

“…Alright. Meet me Monday on the third floor at seven o’ clock. We can do the measurements then.” With that, he walked back to his desk, sitting down. “…You can go now.” He added bluntly.

I blinked, not expecting him to agree to try my method so easily. “Oh…! Okay…thank you.” I meekly bowed my head, then scurried out of his office. Once I was outside, I sighed heavily. That was exhausting. But at least it appeared like Bisley was taking me more seriously. I had apparently proven my worth to him, at least a little bit.

 

The third floor to the Spirius building was, oddly enough, a massive gym with every type of equipment available—some of it patented and built by the company itself. It was true that Spirius had their own special task force, of course, so maybe these facilities were so big to suit the needs of the special agents on top of regular employees who use the gym maybe twice a week. Of course, I didn’t go to the gym, and as someone who never goes to the gym, the place felt extremely intimidating.

But I wasn’t here to use the gym, thankfully. I just had to find Bisley and get his measurements. Then again, in a place this huge that would be difficult. I shyly asked around the gym, trying to disturb as few patrons as I could, until finally someone let me know he could be found by the boxing and martial arts equipment. I had to go in further, but it was easy to spot the boxing ring among all of the other equipment. Sure enough, when I found the ring, I found Bisley giving the works to a punching bag by the wall.

It was staggering to watch him go at it, this enormous man, pure muscle, tearing away at this poor sack. The sounds of his punches echoed off the wall, but I noticed that he himself barely made a sound. It was funny, I was sure I could have heard him punching for at least as long as I’d been in the gym, but he didn’t appear to be breaking a sweat. I watched him for a good two minutes, somewhat mesmerized by his concentration. I was about to stop him finally, when suddenly he stopped, shaking off his fists and standing erect.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?”

Crap. He knew I was there. I stand there a moment, embarrassed, trying to squeak out a response.

“I…I didn’t want to interrupt.” I stammered.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We have important business to do, after all.” 

Great, and now he was talking down to me again. I watched him stretch as he started to saunter over to me. He was wearing a heather grey knitted top, and red shorts overtop of black leggings. Not only were they perfect clothes for taking measurements, but they did an excellent job of showing off his physique. Finally I could start to tell exactly what I would be dealing with.

“Can…I help you?”

I looked up to find Bisley raising an eyebrow at me. From his perspective, I had just been unabashedly staring at his body. I could feel my face flush a little from the embarrassment, but I tried to smile and wave it off.

“Oh! Just…sizing you up, sir!”

He grinned. “I told you…”

“Bisley, right.” I nodded and attempted to regain my composure. Speaking with him was difficult, like having to strike a delicate balance between formality and being casual. Not knowing what else to say, I decided to take out my notebook and tape measure so I could get started.

Having seen me take out the tape measure, Bisley already started to assume the position of his feet shoulder width apart and his hands at his sides. I smiled up at him, pleased, then set my notebook on the edge of the nearby boxing ring, which was thankfully not being used. I already had written down on it which measurements needed to be taken, I just needed to fill in the blanks with the numbers.

“Okay…” I moved up in front of Bisley, standing barely inches away from him. I could feel the heat from his workout coming off him, which only added to my nerves. I was about to get closer to this man than probably most people would ever be allowed to get…

I started by taking Bisley by the arms, lifting them slightly, then let go. To my surprise, he let them fall back down.

“Um, you’re supposed to hold the position when I do that…”

“Oh…sorry. I thought you were still “sizing me up”.” He chuckled, his embarrassment showing through his laugh. It honestly felt a little satisfying to hear.

I lifted his arms again, and he obediently held them there. By now, several people around had stopped with their workouts to see what was going on. I tried to ignore them, swinging my tape measure around Bisley’s back and pulling on both ends so that it wrapped around his chest. I felt a lump form in my throat when I read the measurement. I knew he was big, but this helped solidify it in my head.

I swallowed, then turned to write the measurement down. Next was his waist, then his hips. I danced around him as I measured everywhere that needed recording. Across shoulder, across back, back waist, shoulder waist, bicep, arm length, seat length…eventually I started to measure around his legs, and by then a crowd had formed. After taking down his knee measurement, I wrapped the tape measure around the bulk of Bisley’s thigh, and I heard a soft oohing from some of the onlookers. I could feel my face turning red. This part didn’t have to be awkward, but with all of the people watching it was getting to be that way. I measured his outseam just fine, then looked up to Bisley.

“Uh, next is um…the inseam…”

“Go ahead.” He didn’t seem fazed at all. At least he was taking this seriously, even if no one else was.

I held the start of the tape measure by his foot, then slid my other hand up the length of it, parallel to Bisley’s leg. My hand brushed up against his other leg as it moved closer to his crotch, and that that point the crowd began to oohing louder and even whistling. 

“Settle down!” Bisley’s voice was stern, sending a slight shudder through my body. I took the measurement, then got up and wrote it down. 

“Alright! That was the last one.” As soon as I spoke those words, the onlookers began to disperse, though I’d noticed that some of them had left along with Bisley’s scolding. 

“That was certainly very thorough.” He leaned over to peek at my notebook, before starting to stretch again.

“I hope I didn’t take away too much from your workout.”

“No, no. this needed to get done.”

I nodded at that. “Right.”

“So, when will be the first fitting?”

“Does Wednesday work for you?”

Bisley ran a hand over his hair. “Talk to Vera. She’ll let you know when my best opening is.”

“Okay.”

“Anything special I need to be wearing this time?” He was mocking me again, but this time it seemed more playful than condescending. It made it easier to play along.

“Normal business attire should suffice, so long as it’s easy to get out of.” I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting on his reaction. His lip curled slightly, and his eyes quickly moved over me before narrowing slightly.

“I’ve got just the thing.”

That made me smile. “Good.”

“I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“See you.” With that, I turned to leave, hearing Bisley going back to his punching bag behind me. This time, I felt far more confident. It might take him until seeing the finished product to see what I was really worth, but I could work for this man.

 

It didn’t take me as long as until Wednesday to finish making the basic blocks for Bisley’s suit. In fact, I’d gone straight home on Monday and drafted them out by noon, cutting and sewing them by evening. I was eager to see how they would turn out, as well as tweak and perfect them now that I could put them on my model. 

When I entered Bisley’s office, he surprised me by getting up and meeting me halfway in the center of the room.

“Tell me, Leach, what do you need me to do?” No greeting, no pleasantries, just straight to business. I liked it.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a set of “clothes” made entirely from unbleached cotton muslin, handing them to him. “I need you to strip down to your shirt and underwear and put these on. Afterwards I’ll pin them closed for you and we can start making the proper adjustments.”

“I’m not going to have to change in front of you, am I?” He teased me with a wry smile.

“Not unless you don’t mind. Otherwise, I’ll stand outside.” I didn’t wait for him to answer and started to turn so that I could leave. For a brief moment, I thought I saw a look of slight disappointment on his face, though I chalked it up to overthinking things. Or maybe wishful thinking. I wasn’t sure yet.

A few minutes went by as I stood outside and waited, until I heard a knock at the door signaling that I could come back in. When I entered he was already back in the center of the room, wearing the utterly basic pants and vest while holding the pants up by the front. The clothes had no closures on them whatsoever, as it would not only be a waste of notions, but provided too much room for error. One or two buttons out of place could wreck the pattern for the whole garment.

“Alright, let’s start with these.” I gestured towards the pants while taking my box of pins out of my bag before leaving the bag on the floor nearby. I walked up to him, then crouched down in front of him to get a better look at the fly. I could tell it made him uncomfortable—there’s a way people shift their weight in front of you that makes it easy to tell—but I paid him no mind. I was working, and I needed to make sure I pinned the fabric just right. I held up the top of the fly with one hand and moved closer with a pin in the other.

“Be careful…” His voice was a little nervous. I found it kind of funny.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stab you.” I chuckled. I doubt I did much to comfort him but I wasn’t very concerned either. He was a big boy, he could handle it.

I had to adjust and readjust where the pants hung on Bisley’s hips in order to get it just right. In the meantime I was able to make note that he wore red underwear, which I thought was interesting. Not that I needed to see it plainly to know—it was visible through the muslin fabric after all. From what I could tell, they were short boxers. Somehow that seemed to suit him.

Once I’d finished pinning his fly shut, I stood up and started working on the vest. It was always a pain getting the center to be aligned, but eventually I managed to get it right. Afterwards I stepped back and gave the clothing a quick look. It certainly fit him better than what I’d seen him wear before. Of course, there were always improvements that could be made.

I circled around him, looking at all the places that could use tailoring. I then came up behind him, lifting his arms up so I could get to his sides. It felt fun, making him move the way I wanted, especially knowing just what an important man he was. The CEO of Spirius, one of the most influential people in all of Elympios…and here I was able to manipulate him just like that.

Getting back to work, I started to pin along the seams of the vest, folding and tucking in fabric until it provided the right look. I did this painstakingly along every seam, quietly tucking and pinning until finally I could step back and say it fit perfectly.

“Very good…now—“

“How long is this going to take?” Bisley’s interruption surprised me. 

“What?”

“I didn’t think it was going to take this long.” He looked at me like he was bored; like I was wasting his time.

“I’m sorry. Did you want this to look good, or like you just picked out the first thing on the rack at the big & tall store?” That came out unexpectedly. Then again, I felt a bit hurt. If he didn’t want me to do my job properly, then why hire me? I thought I was dressing someone important, not someone who might settle for something half-assed.

I waited for him to snap back at me. For him to remind me of who he was and ream me out mercilessly. I was ready for a fight to happen. But then he just laughed.

“Right! Sorry, sorry! Don’t mind me, I’m just impatient.”

I sighed, relieved. “If you’re tired, we can take a break. It’s normal for models to get overwhelmed during a fitting.”

“Oh, so I’m a model now? I like it.” He grinned, putting his hands on his hips and shifting his weight to the side. “I’ll be fine. You keep going.”

“Alright. Well first I need you to stand up straight.”

“Rodger that.” He put his hands back to his sides and stood upright again.

“Thank you.” I promptly went back to work, first taking a few steps back, then crouching down to get a better look at how the pants hung off his body. There was something about the way the inseam sagged that bothered me. Standing up, I quickly approached him and knelt down in front of him again, taking out more pins. Starting at the biggest problem area, by his knee, I started to pinch the fabric together at the seam and pin it where I thought the new seam should be.

It was easy to be reminded of just how powerful a body Bisley had when I was so close. Even through the fabric, I could sense the thickness of his legs and the massive amount of muscle that they consisted of. I worked down towards the hem first, making a clean line of pins that better complimented his physique. Then I had to move upwards. For some reason, it made me more nervous than usual. It was strange though—there was no one around watching or making fun of me while I worked this time. As I got closer and closer in between his legs, however, I could feel my face heating up.

Finally, I laid the last pin and was able to step back and take a look. It was unfortunate that there was no mirror in Bisley’s office where I could show him the difference, because really it was quite remarkable how much better it looked. I crouched down and made up the hem on that pant leg, deciding it would be the one I’d use for the pattern.

After having him try the jacket on and making similar adjustments to it, I took out the original sketch and a marker, ready to map out the style lines. The process was rather easy—I would just look at the picture and draw on the fabric with the marker in the places where things were to go. It was kind of fun, really, if a little awkward. After all, I was pretty much drawing on Bisley. 

It took a lot of humming and hahing on my part, as well as drawing, stepping back, drawing more, stepping back again, and generally having to be careful I got everything right. Once all of the style lines were finished and I was satisfied, however, I finally told Bisley he could change out of the mock garments and back into his regular clothes. When he let me back into the office, I carefully folded up the newly pinned clothing and put everything away in my bag, ready to leave, until Bisley addressed me one more time.

“Thank you for taking so much time to get things right. I couldn’t see what you were doing, but I’m sure the end result will be fantastic.”

“Uh.” I stood there, shocked, unable to process such genuine praise. “I…thank you. I’ll do my best.”

“I hope you will.”

The tone of his voice blew through me and nearly took the air from my lungs. What was that?! I knew I should feel proud to get a compliment from my boss, but this…this was strange. I quickly excused myself, then rushed back out into the 30th floor foyer. My heart was racing. I decided it was best to just find Vera and make the next appointment so I could start working on the next mockup.

 

It was next Monday when I went back for the second fitting. Again, there were no closures, but this time, the clothes were a perfect muslin replica of the suit I had designed for him. Well, almost perfect. Like before, I had him put on the pants and vest first, then helped pin them on for him. Today he was wearing forest green underwear.

Just like last time, I made adjustments to the fit by pinning at the seams, all the while moving Bisley around like a puppet. Thankfully, the inseam had turned out perfectly, so I wouldn’t have to go through adjusting that again. After fixing the vest and having him wear the jacket, I took out my marker to fix a couple of lines, then stood back. 

“I think…yeah. I think I’m ready to start making the real thing. How do you feel?” I looked up at him.

“Really…?” Bisley moved around a bit, as if to test out the garments. “...It feels nice. I don’t think I’ve ever worn something that actually fit me before.”

That made me smile. “Good! I’m glad. It’ll feel even better when it’s made from actual wool.”

“About that. Did you ever find the fabric you needed?” He looked genuinely interested. I was just surprised he remembered to follow up on that.

“Ah…no. Turns out I really will have to dye it myself. I can do it though, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure you can.” It was strange, but I could tell he wasn’t mocking me this time. I’m not sure what was different bout his voice, but I could tell he was being sincere.

“…It’s too bad there are no mirrors in here. I’d kind of would have liked for you to be able to see the whole process.”

“Well, when you’re done, you can deliver the suit straight to my place. Then you can see me when I try it on for the first time, at least.”

My heart began to float. “Seriously? That would honestly be great!” I would love to see his expression the first time he sees the job I’d done for him. Nothing would be more satisfying.

“Excellent. I’ll have Vera give you the address. How long do you think it’ll take?” He looked at me expectantly.

“Oh um…it should take about another week, give or take.” 

“Sounds good. Now…!” He clapped his hands together. “Some privacy, if you would.”

“Certainly.” I walked out of the office to let Bisley change, then went back in later to collect my things and say good day. 

 

I rang the buzzer for Bisley’s apartment, painfully nervous. He was going to see the finished product today, and ultimately decide whether he loved it or hated it. This could decide whether I still had a job after today or not. When I first met Bisley, I never thought I’d get this far, but now that I was here, I didn’t want to fail this opportunity. I finally felt like I was doing something with my life. I wanted to stay and keep making clothes for Bisley Bakur.

“Hello?” When Bisley spoke over the intercom I nearly shrieked, it startled me so much.

“H-hi… It’s Leach.”

“Come in.” His voice was followed by a loud buzzer and the door unlocking. I pushed my way in, entering the spacious, luxurious foyer of the building. It was to be expected that he would live in a place like this, but it was still a lot for me to take in. I carried the large garment bag holding Bisley’s suit through the foyer and got into the elevator, selecting Bisley’s floor and waiting for it to take me up.

The elevator was not only big, but wall to wall adorned with mirrors. It made me painfully aware of how I looked. As usual I had my hair swept to one side, falling just below the brim of my glasses. I dressed more casually this time, sporting a loose black knitted top underneath the same navy blazer jacket, though I was starting to think the top might be too low cut. Oh well…it was stylish, and that was what mattered, right? It went well with the length of my blue pendant necklace after all.

Finally, the elevator came to a stop, and I stepped out into the hallway and found the door to Bisley’s apartment. It was one of only two on the entire floor, which indicated to me that it must be big. I knocked lightly on the door. After a few moments, Bisley swung it open, greeting me with a smile.

“Come in! How are you?” He stepped back so that I could enter. The inside, as I had predicted, was huge. More like a high rise bungalow than a condominium.

“I’m fine, thank you…your place is beautiful!” And it was. It was furnished with sleek, elegant designs that each had some kind of bold and colourful accent. The walls were bright and decorated with enormous paintings, each one a fabulous work of art. There were hints of green everywhere, plants of all shapes and sizes adorning the shelves and windows and other surfaces throughout the space.

“Why, thank you very much!” He looked to the bag I had slung over my shoulder. “Is this it?”

“Oh…Yeah it is.” I swung it around and held it up to show him. He smiled and took it from me, then closed the door behind me and started to lead me further inside.

“I want to try it on right away. Come with me.” He led me down a hallway and into the master bedroom, which was just as stunning as the main living room. White damask sheets on a beautiful black woven steel bedframe, robust white painted wood furniture, and a set of rococo chairs with white wooden frames and bright red fabric, all within walls painted bright red as well. 

“Wait right here.” Bisley took the suit into the closet with him, leaving me to take in the majesty of the room.

“No problem…” I went around and looked at his things, curious. His dresser had a mirror, which might seem odd for a man to have, but seeing how much Bisley seemed to value aesthetics it didn’t really come as a surprise to me. In one corner of his room he had a very healthy palm tree growing in a large stone pot. In another, He had a bookshelf that was a little scarce, though there were plenty of seedy romance novels in it. I read some of the titles...somewhat intrigued by a handful of them. I took one out and paged through it, finding a few passages that were laughable…and some that weren’t too bad. Next to his bed was a workout ball, some weights, a jump rope and a yoga mat. Somehow I wasn’t at all surprised that the man exercised both at home and at the gym. 

As I was admiring how tidy Bisley’s bed sheets were, he opened the closet door.

“Come in!”

I obeyed and entered the walk-in closet, which, like the rest of his home, was incredibly spacious. Bisley was standing further inside, looking himself over in the mirror with a big smile on his face. I went to stand next to him, proud of the work I had done.

“Oh Leach…this is fantastic!” The suit was a deep mermaid teal with gold buttons and gold threaded accents on the lapels and pocket flaps. The vest was a darker teal with black buttons, and the shirt he wore underneath was black, which matched the rest perfectly. I watched him happily as he turned and posed in front of the mirror, clearly impressed with what I had done.

Of course, being the one who made it, I was silently critiquing my own work, thinking about all the mistakes I might have made and wondering if it was really good enough. I held my hand out nervously, and he took that to mean that I wanted a better look and quickly assumed the right position. I tugged at and shifted each garment, testing them, moving them into just the right position so I could properly judge them. I tugged at the belt loops of the pants, impressed that they hung so nicely on his hips. I went in behind him, crouching down and making sure that the back pockets were perfectly aligned. I shifted around to his front and smoothed out the front pockets, making sure the pocket bags didn’t snag or pull on anything from underneath. Then something happened.

It was unmistakeable. I tried to think of a way I could have imagined it, but the way in which it happened there was no denying it. Bisley’s dick moved. I could see it change the creases of the fabric, sliding them gently out of the way. If I looked directly at it, I could see it practically outlined in front of me.

My heart pounded in my ears, my mouth went dry, and I could suddenly count my breaths. I looked up, praying he hadn’t noticed—but of course he did. He was attached to the damn thing. I could tell he was attempting to be elsewhere in his mind as he stared forward, fully aware of what his body was doing.

But it was fine. It would be okay. We were both adults capable of understanding, and it wasn’t the end of the world. We could laugh it off. It would be easy. 

“You…doing okay up there?” I tried hard not tot let my nerves show through my voice.

“Oh, I’m alright. Just not used to having someone kneeling in front of me so often.” Excellent. He was trying to joke. That was a good sign. I decided to play along.

I stood up. “Somehow I doubt that.” 

Bisley chuckled at that, a smile tracing his lips. For a split second I felt relief.

“You dare tease an old man! How shameless…nearly as shameless as that top.”

I froze. My top. The top that I had earlier thought might be a tad too low cut. And I had just been kneeling down in front of him with it. I stood there in a panic, unable to respond, when he suddenly bellowed out with laughter, slapping me on the shoulder.

“Oh, lighten up, will you? I was only teasing! That’s what you get for making fun of me, you know!”

I laughed along, pretending to know what was going on. Did he see down my shirt or didn’t he? Whatever had happened, it was apparently a non-issue now, according to Bisley.

“Now, we aren’t finished yet.”

“Huh?” I looked up at him, confused.

“I need you to help me pick out a tie.”

“Oh! Yes, please let me help you.”

Bisley smiled, then led me over to his tie rack. I pulled out a few, then put them back, then pulled out one or two more, holding them up to Bisley’s neck only to find them unsuitable. Then, I found a lovely gold on gold brocade tie that was perfect. I turned to Bisley with the tie, then tied it for him around his neck. As I tightened it, tucked it into his vest and flattened it onto his chest, I was acutely aware of all the ways I was touching him.

After a few moments I stepped back and allowed Bisley to look at himself in the mirror. He turned, then adjusted the tie, then smiled.

“Yes, I do believe I like it!”

I clasped my hands together and smiled. “Oh good! I’m glad.”

Bisley turned to me, then took my hand and shook it. “Thank you for all of your hard work, Mary. Really, you did an excellent job.”

“Oh…you don’t have to…I told you my friends call me—“

“Ahh,” He gave me a serious look. “But you and I aren’t really friends, are we?”

“I…I guess not.” This was it. Normally I might take it as an insult for someone to go from using my last name to my first, but the way he said it made it clear to me. He had started off calling me Leach as a way of putting me down, being extra familiar with me to show that he didn’t take me seriously. Now, he was finally acknowledging himself as my boss. I inexplicably felt incredibly proud.

“Now…before you go, I’d like to ask you a favour.” His gaze didn’t let up. It was starting to make me sweat.

“What is it?”

“I’d like it if you helped me out of this…so I don’t wreck it.”

I look over him a moment, a little confused by the request, but willing to comply all the same. Normally, it might have struck me as a little much to ask, but I was feeling eager to please him.

“Sure.” I started by unbuttoning his jacket, then circling in behind him to help pull it off. I put the jacket on its hanger, then moved back in front of Bisley to start unbuttoning his vest. I could hear him breathe. I could feel it under my fingers, too. The fabric I had worked tirelessly with the week before now felt different, slightly warm from being on Bisley’s body. When I finished unbuttoning the vest, I circled around him again to take it off, then hung it up as well. He turned to me, looking at me expectantly. I wondered what he wanted at first, but then I realized: the tie. I approached him and tugged at the knot, pulling the tie loose and sliding it off of his neck. I undid the knot, then went over to the tie rack to hang it up. He turned to me again, that same expectant look on his face. Now I was sure there was nothing left for me to do. I wondered if maybe I should say something, but the look in his eye told me to stay silent. That he still wanted something from me. 

The worst part was that I knew exactly what he wanted, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. If I did, I would then have to make the choice between whether to do it or to reject him. I didn’t want to reject him…but I was also afraid to do it. I was afraid to do it because I was afraid that I really wanted to do it.

But why should I be afraid…what was wrong with wanting to, anyway? Who made the rule that I should be ashamed? Who would get me in trouble if I said yes?

Looking up at him, I stepped closer. Without looking I reached forward…I wanted to see his reaction. My hand came to rest on his stomach. I followed the placket of his shirt downward, until I reached his belt buckle. Still without looking, I found the end of his belt, and began to thread it through the buckle. His face didn’t change. He only stared down at me, watching me as I pulled the notch free. It was the most obvious indication that I had guessed right; that I was doing exactly what he wanted of me. Once the belt was undone, I slid it out of the belt loops and let it fall to the floor, still looking up into those dark blue eyes of his. I fingered the top button of his pants, but that’s where he stopped me.

I gasped slightly when his hand clasped over my own. Soon, I could tell his face was getting nearer, and before I knew it his lips were on mine. I let him swim over me, capturing my lips with his and gently pulling just before every release. I closed my eyes and brought my hand up to his face, brushing against his cheek, the short bristles of his beard scratching against my fingertips. His arm wrapped around me, and before long I felt his tongue swipe across my lips, the sensation sending a shiver through my body. I let my mouth open and allowed his tongue to slide in, feeling it slither against my own. I murmured quietly against his lips and tongue as the sound of our kisses filled the quiet room. 

My hand was still in his, right by the top of his fly, and I managed to wrestle against him to get to the top button—not that he provided much resistance. I undid the button and pulled his shirt tails out from the front of his pants, then unzipped the zipper. Without hesitation, I then slid my hand down the front of his pants, my hand caressing his bulge over his underwear.

Bisley stopped kissing me at once and produced a guttural sound from deep within his throat. I smiled. He felt soft and warm in my hand, still pliable. I played with him a little, moving him around and squeezing him gently. I could see his face and neck turning red, the sounds he was making breathy and sweet. 

“Why you…” He pulled my hand away and swept his arm underneath my buttocks, lifting me up and making me shriek. As he held me up he looked up at me and beckoned me close with his eyes. We kissed again, a smile on both of our lips. My hands moved through his hair and undid the meticulous coiffing he’d put it through. He groaned into my lips and slid his hands over my thighs and buttocks, squeezing them to make me squirm and squeal.

“Nn, let’s get out of this closet, shall we?” He started to turn towards the door.

“Yes, let’s do that.”

He carried me back into the bedroom, then threw me down onto those beautiful white damask sheets. I laughed as he climbed the bed to get on top of me, leaning down to kiss me one more time before he slid off his pants. He was wearing red underwear again.

I threw off my blazer, then moved to remove my top when he stopped me.

“Go slowly now…don’t take it off all at once.”

“Oh…okay…” I let the hem of my shirt fall and leaned back on the bed. Bisley stroked my neck and shoulders with his fingertips, trailing them over my collarbone and down my chest. He fit both hands over my breasts, gently squeezing and massaging them until I could feel them getting more sensitive. When he took his hands away, there were two definitive bumps in the fabric of my shirt. He brought his finger down to one and lightly brushed over it through the fabric, which made me whimper. He did this with both sides, teasing me through my shirt as I arched my back slightly.

“Ah…ah…” I whined softly while he teased me, then he took his fingers away and began to lift my shirt. I laid back on the bed, ready for him to play with me, eager to let him touch me. He slid his hands up my stomach and over my breasts, then rubbed his palms over my stiff nipples. I sighed and moaned, then gasped softly when his fingers closed to pinch my nipples. He twisted them lightly, turning them over in his fingers. Then he took his hands away and leaned down, bringing his lips to one instead. My breath hitched as I felt his tongue slide over the sensitive tissue and soon he was sucking on me, tugging my nipple through his lips and flicking his tongue over it. 

“Ah, god!” I whimpered as he started to suck harder, to the point where it might have been painful if it didn’t feel so good. He moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, sucking on it hard until it was so sensitive he could hardly touch it without making me moan.

He played with me using his hands a little while longer, then he started to pull off my shirt entirely. After that he undid and pulled off my pants. He looked down at my packer and smirked, then reached down to grab it. He squeezed and rubbed it in front of me, making me blush while inadvertently rubbing my mound underneath it. 

“Mm…!” I whined as he toyed with me. I could tell he was enjoying it, as his boxers appeared to get tighter.

“Why not…use that…?” I reached for Bisley’s hips and started to lead him closer. He got the hint, as soon he was rubbing his arousal against me over our underwear. He grunted and groaned, the red returning to his face as he leaned over me. I reached up and started to undo the buttons of his shirt, stopping to run my fingers through his chest hair. I could see some sort of strange tattoo or birth mark on the left side of his chest, but whatever it was it didn’t stop him from being incredibly sexy to me. By now, his hair was falling in his face, and the way his body moved as he grinded up against me helped to make me incredibly wet. 

As if sensing this, Bisley stopped rubbing and started to remove my briefs, along with my packer. I shivered as the fresh air hit my moist labia and shyly closed my legs, unused to being seen this way. He sat up then, his eyes moving over my body as I laid there, naked. 

“Where do you want it?”

It took me a moment to realize what he was asking me.

“I…in behind.”

He smiled at me sort of sweetly, then patted my thigh and got out of the bed. I laid back and watched him as he went to his side table and opened the lower drawer there. He pulled out and set on top of the table a hand pump of lubricant and a box of condoms. I sat up to watch more closely when he pulled off his boxers and began unwrapping one of them, my eyes drawn to his hard cock. Like him, it was robust and bulky. Parts of me tingled with anticipation as I watched him don the colourful latex wrapping.

As I awaited Bisley’s return, I started to lean forward in preparation, ready to get onto all fours for him. He saw what I was doing and climbed onto the bed behind me, cradling a wad of lubricant in one of his hands while the other petted down my back and came down to squeeze my buttocks. I lifted my hips up for him slightly, eager but still a little shy. He then brought the hand full of lubricant between my cheeks and smeared the cool substance over my ass.

“Ah…!” I twitched under the cold sensation. Soon I could feel his finger gently prodding at my entrance, rubbing against it before slipping inside by a knuckle.

“Mmm~! Ah…!” Immediately I started to whimper and moan as he teased the sensitive ring of muscle just inside, wriggling the end of his finger and rubbing against the sides. After a few moments of tantalizing play, he slid inside by another knuckle, this time sliding it in and out as my hips squirmed and began to rise up further. Finally he inserted the full length of his finger, before sliding it out and introducing a second. I gasped as he slowly pushed inside while stretching out my ass. By now my hips were fully up in the air, my head buried in the sheets as I got used to the feeling of Bisley’s fingers inside of me.

For several long minutes Bisley explored my inner walls and stretched them out. By the time he was almost finished he could easily slide them in and out, making me squirm and moan. When he took them out and wiped his fingers on my thigh, I was already pleading with him.

“…Please…!!” I wiggled my hips at him, waiting impatiently for him to put his dick inside of me. I could hear him squirt more lube into his palm and slather it onto himself. I got up onto my elbows and looked upside down between my legs at him, watching as he positioned himself behind me. Then I looked forward and noticed something. I could see myself—and Bisley—in the mirror on top of his dresser. I watched his expression as he brought his tip to meet my ass, and how his lips pursed and brow furrowed as he pushed inside. I moaned loudly, his cock feeling much bigger than I anticipated. I buried my face in the sheets again and muffled myself as he slowly slid further and further in, and I could feel him throbbing inside of me, flush against my walls. I heard him groaning as he pushed the last of his length inside that he could, before he stopped. 

As we waited for my body to get used to his, Bisley slid his hands over my skin, caressing my hips and thighs as well as my lower back. I purred softly, feeling full. The silence between us felt warm and soothing, though it didn’t last.

“You’ve been good.” He stated plainly.

I raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“You obeyed me without me having to say a word.”

That sent a shiver down my spine. So he really had been telling me what he wanted back then. I swallowed. “So…what does that mean exactly?”

He continued to rub my back, lightly massaging me. “It means…I get to show you now what happens when you’re good.”

My heart started to thump loudly enough that I could hear it. I couldn’t help but think about what that interviewer had told me about Bisley before I met him: “You want him to boss you around.” I knew this wasn’t what they meant, but boy if it wasn’t true right about now.

“You ready?” Bisley’s hands came to rest at my hips.

I nodded, then got up onto my hands. 

My whole body melted into the movement when Bisley began to pull out. His thick rod left behind a deep impression that ached for its return. Soon, that wish would be granted, as he thrust inside of me for the first time, sending a shockwave of pleasure through me. Again and again he slowly slid in and out, making me gasp and moan, using his full length with every thrust. He then began to quicken his pace, his fingers digging into my hips where he held onto me. He released one side and slapped my ass, grabbing onto my flesh and squeezing it hard. All the while I watched us through the mirror, trying to ignore myself and the lewd faces I was making and concentrating on Bisley; his face, his hair, the way his body moved with every thrust. He was intoxicating to watch. 

I moaned and whined as Bisley started to pound faster and deeper into me. His hand came to stroke my hair, then with both hands he started to grab my chest. Soon he was lifting me up, pressing my body against his. His fingers tweaked and pulled my nipples while I cried out, and I could feel his lips just beside my ear.

“Mary, Mary…” He cooed softly between labored breaths. He sucked and nipped at my earlobe while his hands worked my chest relentlessly. Eventually, one of those hands stopped and began to side down the middle of my stomach, gripping my fat for a moment before moving further down, down past my lower stomach to my mound. By now I was sopping wet, and when he gave me a squeeze I let out a shuddering breath. His fingers slid between my folds, prodding the sensitive insides as my lower body arched up into his touch. Without realizing, I clenched my ass, making Bisley gasp and groan in my ear. Still, those fingers slid over me, stimulating, tantalizing, until one of them slid over my clit. I gasped loudly.

“B-Bisley…!” I desperately tried to tell him what he’d stumbled upon, but it took him no time at all to figure it out. He started to rub his finger over the spot, going in circles to feel me out. Meanwhile I was in ecstasy, crying out and squirming frantically. I took desperate breaths in between each fit of moans as his finger flicked and rubbed my clit, faster and faster, my voice getting higher and higher along with the tension in my body. I could hear him panting and moaning, my muscles having lost all control where he thrust inside of me. The heat and tension rose to a point that was almost agonizing, until…

“AAH! AHHH~! HAAAAH~!!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I came, my whole body shaking wildly. Bisley grunted and moaned in my ear as my body tightened up on him and I could tell he was close as well. A few quick and sporadic thrusts later, his arms tightened around me and I could see him lean his head back in the mirror.

“Ahhn!! Unnnh!!” Shortly after, he pulled out of me, leaving a sense of vacant warmth within me. I leaned back onto him, my head resting on his shoulder as we both caught our breaths. He slid his hand through my hair again, then kissed me on my temple.

“Good job.” He patted my thigh, then moved away so he could dispose of the condom. I fell back onto to bed, sweaty and blissful. I finally took off my glasses, which had only barely managed to hang onto my face the entire time, and reached to put them down on the side table. Bisley returned to the bed, speckles of sweat on his half-unbuttoned shirt. He picked up the sheets and moved them underneath me, then joined me on the bed. I shuffled next to him as he pulled the sheets over us and wrapped his arm around me. His hand came to rub my stomach as we cuddled, and soon we could both feel the tiredness seep in. We took a short nap.

We woke up at the same time, Bisley getting up right away to pick up his clothes and put them on. I lazed in the bed for a bit, then started getting dressed as well. Once we were both back in our clothes, I looked to the closet, then back to Bisley.

“You’ll tell me how the event goes, yeah?”

“Oh, certainly.” He gave me a smile, then started to lead me away from the bedroom. 

“And the next event?”

“Three weeks from now. I hope that’s enough time.”

I smiled and nodded. “Well, now that I have your proper measurements, it should be a cinch!”

“Excellent…just don’t go releasing that information to anyone else, you hear?”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t go blabbing your size to anybody unless it’s for the right price.”

We both laughed.

When I went home I thought about the past few weeks and felt proud. At first I had had little to no confidence in myself, but I had managed to rise to the opportunity I was given…and then some. I had never thought getting to work for Bisley Bakur would lead to such a satisfying encounter. One thing was for certain, I was sure to be satisfied by our relationship in the months to come.


End file.
